Satish Verma, 4 february 2013
Untie my hour with the Mars
I am burning and I am going to disappear
in my words. An alienation of a healer in deep
angst? What did you find in the night of confrontation?
Will you be able to save the babies
in wombs of truth?
I have turned my back without blaming
on the fictional fall. The first pain was the stranger.
No other had been the same in complete solitude.
Do I need to take a side in the face of suffering?
Today is more dangerous than tomorrow and
I am going to make a deal with my talent.
The rules are becoming charred shirts
covering a pure body. Give me hands to
ship the thunder in bay of blood.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 1 february 2013
When moon will wash my doors
I will come out in night
to find you in dark
and lose you in light.
Does it resonate with you
O my truth
O my pain
time has moved back.
My love whitens the shadow
of a black rose in the nakedness of waking.
Do not want to disappoint the sun
and enter into a grain.
I am the stillness and I am
the noise. Motherless I am born
in black water
of immaculate death.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 31 january 2013
A proxy life
I was fighting in the hourglass
to open the pathways of a grain
for a bloody birth of an idea.
Was time faithful to us
when we were drifting apart?
A prowling big cat had again attacked in dark
and broken the necks of lambs.
Now miracles are flying
and you want to get the solid gold
hidden in a borewell, the colour
of a sunset and a yellow wager.
Today I will forget the grief
of generations, dispossessed of death and myths.
You have not lifted the pugmarks
unburdening my truth.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 30 january 2013
What were the lies in a truth
of the buried day?
Fabulous cries? Tears?
It was a tremble down
in the standing crop of men
ready to be genetically modified.
Each walk in the city
exhausts you to an innocent
tale of manipulated fiction.
Insects, yes insects
were climbing on the moon
like saints with flowing beards
to drink the blackness
of sky. There had been a method
in their madness, in death and whiteness.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 29 january 2013
In the city of avatars
uncharitable names were cropping up
for wet and wild awards
scripted on lips of unreliable nights.
I wanted to quit archives
of headless soldiers and standing back
wanted to watch a river
of corpses flowing to morgue.
Another blast has killed a dozen
bystanders, who were shopping
for a white chador of peace
from blood-streaked owners.
Become a homosexual to catch up
the wave. Don’t tell, don’t give up.
The birthing of blue moon amidst white stars
will take place shortly
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 28 january 2013
Listening,
to inner voice,
peeling off the hurts,
hammered memories.
You dropp the answer
and throw back the question.
Something was totally amiss
Absence overtakes the presence.
The shadow was more frightening.
No movement,
A lull before a flash,
then explosion. The limbs will fly.
The ending of thought
or beginning of emptiness?
A green death starts thinking.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 27 january 2013
This life has snubbed the bloom
like a thick brown sac
thrown on the sod.
An octogenarian tries to slice
the hope indulgingly
to achieve immortality!
Was it a virile snarl?
A rose bud wrenched open
in a fatherless home.
Psychopathic?
We are spinning round the bell.
It may not tell the god.
A moon finds a rival
in the lake.
Night opens like a black tulip.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 26 january 2013
Rebirth of an anxiety,
of an abstract thought,
takes on the impossible of something
left between false and true.
Out of spite some body was betraying the life.
A bodiless lie becomes an imposter
beats the truth and walks away.
You, dumbfounded, discover a malignancy
in the roots of a crying tree.
The soil bacteria were taking over the grains.
The price of the sick crop, the insects,
the greed of the state, where the normal
man will go. The comets and the crabs
are circling the island. Scratch the prophecy,
and every man was turning against himself.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 25 january 2013
In time warp, to find
the fell of a dark moon
my thoughts bring out a birthday gift.
The first step in fog
discovers the sharp edge
of kindness.
Who will believe
this black and white,
suicide of a sage?
Newborn roses and dahlias
speak through
the nothingness of fear.
I just saw the face of death
floating on a pond.
Ashes and bones out of the urn.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 23 january 2013
What was left in our hands
after risk and awards were given to seekers?
Sign of grace at hairpin bends
was absent.Nobody was speaking.
A moratorium was announced.
Somebody will have a glimpse of the moon
through the interstices of pain. Not
a word will be uttered for the elite
ravines of truth. Blessings of facts
will interact with amnesias. The bribery
of bleeding will extract a price. I
am moving the wheels of doubt. The
vulture of time throws a shadow.
Satish Verma
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